Reincarnated as Napoleon

Chapter 251 Leaving London

Chapter 251 Leaving London

On June 10th, 1801, Napoleon sat in the bedroom of Buckingham Palace, going over photographs he had taken during his recent visit to London. The pictures were in black and white, capturing him at notable landmarks like the Tower of London, Windsor Palace, and St. Paul's Cathedral.

Beside him, there stood an easel displaying portraits of himself in various regal poses.

It had been ten days since the signing of the Treaty of London, which marked the end of the Second War of the Coalition and the restoration of peace in Europe.

Great Britain was still engaged in negotiations with other countries, including Sweden and Denmark. Their attacks on Danish and Swedish harbors, resulting in the destruction of capital ships and towns, had led Sweden and Denmark to demand reparations, putting significant strain on Britain's finances.

Moreover, Britain faced internal challenges, with Ireland declaring itself an independent state. France had been quick to recognize Ireland's independence, thanks in part to their efforts in weakening Britain's resolve during the conflict.

Regarding Britain's overseas colonies, those under crown ownership had been promptly handed over to France, while those held by private individuals received compensation.

The situation for Great Britain was dire; the Treaty of London had effectively stripped her of great power status and reduced her to a second-rate player on the international stage.

The humiliating peace treaty that had been imposed on Great Britain would undoubtedly have profound consequences. As Napoleon contemplated the situation, he couldn't help but foresee the potential for internal turmoil and extremism within the British Isles.

The loss of territories, the financial burdens imposed by reparations, and the declaration of independence by Ireland were all potent ingredients for unrest. Discontent and anger would simmer among the British population, and those who saw their once-mighty nation reduced to a shadow of its former self would likely seek avenues for dissent.

As he was engrossed in that thought, Napoleon felt pity for the British, the terms were really harsh, but they brought it upon themselves.

Napoleon sat on the bed, and with a sigh, he shook off his thoughts about the British and refocused his attention on the future of France. The Treaty of London had undeniably favored his nation, catapulting it into the status of a global empire almost overnight. Yet, this newfound power came with its own set of challenges, particularly in maintaining and managing a vast overseas empire while ensuring economic stability.

Well, it's best that he talks about it with his Minister of Foreign Affairs, State, and Finance when he returns to France.

Moments later, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," he called out.

The door swung open, revealing Berthier.

"Your Excellency, the Flagship Orient has arrived at the Port of London," Berthier informed.

"Is that so?" Napoleon acknowledged Berthier's report with a nod.

Today was the day he would leave London and travel back to France.

Napoleon rose from the bed and straightened his coat. "Let's go and have someone take these portraits loaded on the carriage."

"Of course, Your Excellency."

As Berthier signaled the manservants to carry the portraits and load them onto the waiting carriage outside the palace. After that, he followed Napoleon and exited the palace.

Outside,? they were met with a somber sight outside the palace gates. Londoners lined the side of the road, their expressions reflecting the weight of recent events. There was an air of solemnity in the atmosphere as if the entire city had been touched by the gravity of the Treaty of London and its consequences for Great Britain.

Napoleon couldn't help but notice the downcast faces of the onlookers, their curiosity mixed with an underlying sense of resignation. The terms of the treaty had undoubtedly left a mark on the psyche of the British people, a bitter pill to swallow.

Nevertheless, Napoleon maintained his composure as he and Berthier strode towards the ornate carriage.

He hopped and settled inside the carriage, his gaze at the window, looking out to the locals.

"London has been a somber place since the treaty was signed, Your Excellency," Berthier remarked, breaking the silence.

Napoleon nodded in agreement. "There's no doubt about that."

The minutes passed slowly as they waited outside the palace gates. The manservants meticulously loaded the portraits onto the carriage behind them. Napoleon's journey to the Port of London would be a grand procession featuring French infantry, artillery, and twenty ornate carriages carrying the Corps General.

Ten minutes later, the convoy began its slow procession through the streets of London.

As the carriages moved forward, the British onlookers watched in silence, their expressions a mixture of curiosity, resignation, and perhaps a hint of bitterness.

Napoleon observed the passing scenery from his carriage window, it was a depressing sight. But in Paris, it's going to be the complete opposite.

Suddenly, the carriage stopped, causing Napoleon to look around in surprise. He opened the window to see what had caused the sudden halt.

One of the Elite Consular Guards hurriedly approached Napoleon's carriage and spoke.

"Your Excellency, we've encountered an obstruction in the road."

"What kind of obstruction?"

"It's a young man, who appears to be eighteen or nineteen years old. He said he wanted you to read the petition he had prepared. He claims to represent a group of discontented citizens."

"Very well, bring him forward."

The young man, dressed in simple attire, was escorted to Napoleon's carriage.

Napoleon exited the carriage and stood two meters away from the young man. He scanned him from head to toe. He seemed to be a student of some sort. He couldn't see his face due to it being lowered.

"What is your name?" Napoleon asked.

"I am Samuel, Your Excellency," the young man replied confidently, his head still lowered.

"What do you want?"

"A petition…Your Excellency," the young man revealed. "Can I give it to you in person?"

"Okay," Napoleon said and the young man approached him slowly.

Samuel's approach seemed unassuming, yet there was an underlying tension in the air that did not escape Napoleon's keen senses. As the young man drew nearer, he extended his hand, holding what appeared to be a rolled-up parchment.

However, just as their hands were about to make contact, a sudden and unexpected movement caught Napoleon's attention. In a swift and startling motion, Samuel pulled a concealed knife from his attire and lunged toward Napoleon with a determined look in his eyes.

Napoleon's instinct kicked in, and with a lightning-fast reaction, he managed to grasp Samuel's wrist, preventing the knife from reaching its intended target—his abdomen.

The onlookers gasped in shock and the Elite Consular Guards immediately aimed their rifles at the young man.

"Stand down," Napoleon ordered simply.

"But Your Excellency," One of the Elite Consular Guards tried to protest but was cut off by Napoleon's raise of a hand.

"YOU TYRANT!" The young man's face contorted with rage as he bellowed.

It was clear that his actions were driven by a deep-seated anger and a sense of desperation that had pushed him to this extreme act. But Napoleon remained unflinching, his grip on Samuel's wrist unwavering.

"I'll KI—" Samuel's words were abruptly cut short as Napoleon tightened his grip on his arm as if to remind him of the futility of his threats.

"We'll bring this man with us, take him," Napoleon ordered as he glanced at the Consular Guards.

"Yes, Your Excellency," the Consular Guards swiftly moved to apprehend Samuel. They disarmed him of the knife and placed him under restraint, ensuring he posed no further threat.

Napoleon returned to his carriage. Berthier leaned forward and asked.

"Your Excellency, why are you taking him? You should have executed him on the spot."

"Well, I want to talk to him," Napoleon said.